


Shadows in My Mind

by nazyalenskyism



Series: Grishaverse Collection [10]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: :), Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst?, Ouch, a little indulgent in the first half because of the context but, almost cried writing this, but not really happy, classic zoyalai, not a sad ending, zoyalai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazyalenskyism/pseuds/nazyalenskyism
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this, not yet.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: Grishaverse Collection [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959739
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Shadows in My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know how to tag this fic but it's been sitting in my drafts for a few months and I hope you like it! As always comments are appreciated, and thanks for taking the time to read! <3

“No,” she hissed, pressing all of her weight into her hands but the pallor of his skin kept worsening despite her efforts. “No. Hey. Stay awake!” Zoya snapped, tapping his cheek with her blood stained fingers. She fought back a wince as she left scarlet prints on his face, his unfocused eyes fluttering open at the sharp pain she’d dealt him. “I won’t let you leave me, you idiot. You’re not allowed to leave.” Zoya couldn’t even summon the horror that would usually wash over her when tears rose in her eyes. She rarely let them fall, but now, they streamed down her face as her best efforts yielded no results. She continued pushing down on the wound, feeling Nikolai’s weary gaze on her when she paused for a moment, using her Squaller’s abilities to throw her voice, calling for someone, anyone, even though she knew there would be no answer. _‘This can’t be how this ends,’_ Zoya let herself despair for a moment before turning back to Nikolai, _‘he was supposed to have more time.’_ She steeled herself, ripping off a sleeve of her bloodied and torn shirt, pressing it into the wound. Her bones were tired, her powers screaming, she wanted nothing more than to curl up on the ground and close her eyes, but she couldn’t afford that-- not until she’d saved Nikolai. _‘If I save him, then everything will be fine.”_

“Okay,” she whispered, “okay, we can do this. I just have to reapply pressure before I get you onto your feet.” She reached out, faltering when warm fingers wrapped around her wrist. Nikolai looked up at her, pale, bloodied and beaten, but his eyes were still bright. “Nikolai you need to stand up, if you can walk, we’ll do that, or I’ll carry you.” _‘Whatever it takes,’_ she thought, trying to pull herself from his grip, but he was surprisingly strong. 

“Zoya,” he said hoarsely, “it’s no use, dear.”

“No,” she snapped, looking at him incredulously, “you’re always the one babbling on about hope and optimism, you **_do not_** get to tell me it’s futile. Not now,” but in her heart, she realized that she was at yet another funeral, being left behind again. He was going to leave her. He had _promised_ that he would come back. He was leaving her. 

“Nazyalensky,” Nikolai muttered, fingers brushing away the tears that had spilled from her eyes. “Don’t shed tears for me, I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“Well I don’t like seeing you--” she broke off, she couldn’t do this. 

“Hey,” he said softly, “I need you to go back to the others, there’s a document with the finance minister, and another with Tolya. I need you to put them into action immediately, don’t give anyone a chance to hurt our country.”

‘ _ **Our** country’._ “You’re not thinking about Ravka, not right now.” 

“I’m running low on moments,” he replied, and to her horror his eyes were shining too. 

“We can try,” she insisted, “we can’t be too far from the others.” 

“No,” he said firmly, “I’m fine where I am. I need you to do something for me.” She nodded without hesitation and he continued, “let’s pretend we’re an old married couple.” 

“What?” Zoya croaked.

“Tell me a lie. Tell me it will be alright,” his eyes were wide, imploring.

She pulled on her best guise, what he’d taught her, how to play the part. “Don’t be daft, of course you’ll be fine. You think that your best general would let you d--” she choked back a sob. “That she would let you die? No, you’re going to make it back to the camp, and the healers will patch you up perfectly, or else they’ll have _me_ to deal with. You’ll ride back to a capital on your favourite horse in your best coat, the victorious king of a resilient country.”

“Will there be a ball in my honour?” the corners of his lips pulled up, “I would’ve loved to dance with every lady in the country.”

“Of course,” she replied, clinging on to the moment, this moment that was just them as if nothing was wrong, as if this was not their last moment like this. “They’ll write ballads in your honour, and perform hours into the night, the festivities will last for weeks, until you can’t stomach any more parties. All the ladies will be fawning over a chance to dance with their handsome king” 

“Handsome?” he let out a laugh, wincing immediately, clutching at the wound in his side. Zoya carefully peeled his hand back, replacing it with her own over the injury. She tried not to think about how feverish his skin was under her hand, how his blood had soaked through the fabric of her balled shirt sleeve. _‘I need to remember everything about this moment.’_

“Yes. Handsome.”

His eyes found hers, a steadfast sincerity behind them. “You’re forgetting how the king may dance with every woman in the country, but the entire evening, his eyes will only be on one.” 

“You will meet a nice girl, fall hopelessly in love, have too many children to inherit your throne, and you will grow old with a family and country that love you as you deserve, ” Zoya continued, attempting to ignore his words, the look in his eyes. 

“The woman whose name the wind whispers in his dreams.”

She pushed on, “you will be a fantastic king, you will--”

“And if he never summoned the courage to follow his heart, he would spend every day of the rest of his life wondering _what could have been_ if he had been able to make a queen out of his ruthless general.” 

“Nikolai--”

“Zoya,” he whispered, “I fear that I don’t have much time left. Can I ask of one more favour from you?”

“I thought kings never begged.” She bit out as Nikolai pushed aside new tears, his hand warm against her cheek.

He gave her a sad smile, “is it truly begging when asking something of a queen? If not, then it will be our secret.” His voice was growing fainter with each word and Zoya felt her heart lurching. She was not ready. _‘Help me’_ she implored to the dragon inside her, but the Saints were quiet, like they always were. No one would be coming to save her, they never did.

She nodded resolutely, “what do you need?” 

“Will you kiss me sweetly? In my dreams you always do, and this seems like nothing if not a dream of mine.” 

“Nikolai you--”

“Nazyalensky, humour me please. I know you don’t share my sentiments but--” 

He was cut off as Zoya dipped down, pressing her lips against his fiercely with years worth of longing, hope, desperation combined with her heart’s mournful goodbye to a future they would never see. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her harder until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his. “That was sweeter than I ever dreamed,” he said quietly. 

Zoya took his hand in hers, “don’t go.” 

“I have to,” his voice was barely there now. She drew back, his fluttering eyelids racking another sob from her chest. “I’ll see you again one day, I hope.” He pushed open his eyes, gazing at her intently, as if struggling to commit each detail to memory, to hold onto the picture for a moment longer. “Don’t forget me.” Nikolai drew their intertwined hands towards him, pressing a brief kiss against her knuckles. 

“I won’t.” 

“I know,” he smiled up at her, before closing his eyes. “I’m only going to take a short nap, Zoya dear. Wake me up when our friends are here.”

She was fully weeping now, “I will, Nikolai. I will.” 

The world was quiet for a few moments, Nikolai’s slowing breaths the only sound. 

Then, as quick as sleep, he was gone. 

For a shining moment, she didn’t believe it, but it shattered all too quickly when she pressed her fingers to his neck. Nothing. He was truly gone.

“No, no, no,” she murmured, throwing herself over his warm body, crying out as she felt the wind knock out of her chest, her lungs aching from impact. A searing bright light and stars engulfed her vision and she fell back, breathless, cold, smooth tile delivering another blow to her battered body. 

She blinked rapidly, attempting to right herself, her surroundings only just beginning to register in her mind. She was in a secret cell hidden behind the Darkling’s, now Nikolai’s war room in the Little Palace. It was the place that they were keeping the Darkling— or at least had been— until he had escaped, wreaking havoc and delivering the fatal blow to Nikolai.

‘Nikolai,’ Zoya thought, scrambling to her feet despite the pain. How had she gotten here? She had been in the middle of a barren battlefield, her body thrown over her king’s lifeless one… had she been captured? Where was his body? Zoya glanced down at the broken skin on her hands that had braced her fall backwards. They were clean, no trace blood. She frowned, her shirt was whole, her kefta clasped overtop of it. Last she’d remembered, it had been torn off her back as she fought in battle. Looking up, Zoya found a chair that had toppled over laying at her feet, and a metal table before her, and behind it, was the Darkling, a predatory smile playing at his lips.

“Did you like that little dream?” his voice was as smooth as glass, his hands bound together before him. “All those tears for your little boy king, did you cry like that for me, Zoya?” 

She said nothing, her head still fuzzy. _‘What was happening?’_

“ No,” he continued, his eyes fixed on her, trying to gauge her emotions. She knew this game, he found the gaps in your armour and twisted the knife until you were writhing on the floor and he was satisfied with his work. “I don’t suppose you did, you were pretending to hate me at the time, what with the way that you turned against me,” he sneered, raising an eyebrow at her unflinching demeanor. _So it had all been fake? Then why did it feel so real?_ She could feel Nikolai’s lifeless presence over her like an enormous weight, even now. 

“What was that?” Zoya asked, pushing to make her tone as even as possible. Her fingers dug into her crossed arms, forcing herself to stay in place. She needed answers, she couldn’t afford to run out of the room and make sure that Nikolai was actually okay. As her head cleared, she began to remember what had happened. She’d volunteered to try to get the Darkling to talk, she hadn’t wanted anyone else to have to deal with him. It was her fault that he was back and she refused to let him hurt her friends again. Nikolai had been hesitant, and the look he’d given her at the meeting was puzzling. She had assumed it was because of the story she’d told him that night in the Fold, about what the Darkling had said to her. But now, after whatever she had just experienced, she wasn’t so sure.

“That,” the Darkling began, pulling Zoya’s attention back to him. “That was a little glimpse into your future.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, unable to help herself, “let me guess, that’s what’ll happen if I don’t let you go?” 

“No,” he leaned back in his chair, “it’s inevitable now, that’s the only outcome left after what you and your prince did in the fold.”

“King,” she replied absently. She didn’t believe him for a second, but the vision had been so real-- she could still feel Nikolai’s blood on her hands, his lips pressing against hers, his lack of a pulse under her frantic fingers. It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t her future. The Saints hadn’t been able to determine this for her and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let the man in front of her try to. 

“So it can’t be stopped then?” 

He looked up at her, “oh noble Zoya, so desperate to save everyone. First it was those cubs, then your aunt, Juris, and now the Lantsov pup. As much as you try, they all die in the end. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be.”

 _‘No. No. You don’t let him play these games.’_ Her inner thoughts were echoed by the dragon inside of her, and it took everything to stop herself from slamming the Darkling’s face into the table. As she took a step towards him, planning her next move with blood roaring in her ears, the door behind her flung open. 

“Zoya, we need you.”

She frowned, she needed answers. “ Give me a minute,” she called.

“Now, Commander.” 

“Ask your little king how he felt about that vision.”

Zoya spun around on him, unable to hide her shock. “You showed it to him?

“Why don’t you ask him what it felt like to die? He should remember that feeling, it’s going to happen again sooner than later.”

Zoya forced her feet out the door, slamming it behind her as she followed Tolya into the viewing room, where a mirror looked out at their prisoner. 

“What is it?”

“What happened in there? You froze, and the next thing I knew you were crashing to the ground.”

She waved him off impatiently, her heart still racing from the Darkling’s parting words, “where’s Nikolai?”

“He’s with Ehri in the gardens, why?”

“Go check,” she said, her chest tightening, “go check on them now.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, briefly touching her arm. His face was full of concern and Zoya couldn’t take anymore heartbreak now. She couldn’t imagine the possibility that anything might take her friends from her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Go now, and check on David and Genya and Tamar too, that’s an order.”

He shot her another puzzled look before leaving her alone in the observation room, while the quiet slowly began to consume her. She didn’t order her friends around, not like that, but with every passing second she felt more of her control slip away. Her heart was full of pain, she couldn’t see anything but red.

 _He’s fine, it’s alright. They’re all unharmed._ But it wasn’t enough. She sank to the floor, knees drawn to her chest, numb as the dream repeated itself again and again in her mind. All the while her king strolled through the gardens, entertaining his future queen at his side, unaware that all she could feel was his lifeless body under her, as she watched him die over and over again.


End file.
